


Lost in Translation

by augustskies



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, andrew is a photographer, i don't know what this is, neil is a journalist, the boys meet in antarctica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-25 19:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augustskies/pseuds/augustskies
Summary: Andrew Minyard goes to Antarctica on a work trip, but what he doesn't expect is meeting someone with eyes the color of a cold winter sky.( Or, a Vancouver Sleep Clinic inspired fic featuring our favorite boys in a most unlikely setting. )





	1. Part i.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of something I've been working on for a while now ! The word count should hit 10k once I finish the epilogue, I'm nearly there. Let me tell you, I had a very specific aesthetic in mind when I first got the idea for this fic, and I tried to articulate as best I could, but, well. You can be the judge of that. In the meantime, I'll be posting what I've finished editing, so expect to see this fic completed soon. Hope you guys enjoy this, leave me a comment telling me what you think !
> 
>  
> 
> * There are vague references to suicidal thoughts and feelings of helplessness, but nothing too graphic, I promise.

**Part One**

_" In my skin, I'm lost._

_Tangled in the bones of this love. "_

 

 

He dreamed of falling.

It usually began something like this- he was chasing someone. Most people dreamed of being chased by their monsters, but in his dreams, Andrew was always the one doing the chasing. And did that make him the monster ? Truth be told, he couldn't quite figure it out.

The problem was, he could never tell who or what he was running after. All he knew was that whatever it was, he didn't want to let go of it.

The terrible, hollow ache which came with wanting in these dreams might have unsettled him had it been anything more than dreams, but in the end, that was all they ever proved to be, for better or worse.

Dreams. _Images produced by the subconsciousness during periods of time in which the body is shut down._ The definition had long been burned into the back of his mind since the very first time he had seen those five letters in neat black print on dog-eared dictionary pages. There were perks which came with his eidetic memory, of course, and then there were also the setbacks.

Andrew's dreams were always strangely vivid. No matter how the scene changed, the colors never dulled. He could be drowning in the ocean under an icy sky full of stars, and somehow even through his haze the richness of the landscape would still bleed through. _Beauty_ , his mind whispered to him.

In these dreams, he took note of everything. The way the moon dipped behind the clouds on a clear night. The way mountain peaks caught fire at sunrise. What was perhaps most disorienting of all, though, was the way he accutely felt everything.

He could almost taste the vastness of desert plains stretching boundlessly into a distant horizon. Feel loneliness in the winds whipping through fields of golden crops.

It was ridiculous, and he loved and hated it at the same time. To feel was to let something in, after all. To allow yourself to crack just a little further for something other than numbness to seep through.

It felt a little like dying, but also a little like being reborn.

Andrew traveled the world in his dreams.

The destinations were always nameless places, but that was fine.

It didn't have to be real, concrete. They were just places he could allow himself to be something other than pain for once.

                                                                                                                                       

                                                                                                                                               

* * *

 

 

During the nights when he didn't dream, the ones when every single muscle in his body burned, he fantasized about walking out of his bedroom door for good. There was no one to stop him, not anymore. He could put an end to the phantom touches which still turned his insides to stone and the accompanying feeling of absolute disgust which shrouded his skin in a sickly manner.

It could be quick, couldn't it ? He would purge himself of the wrongness, and finally, _finally_ be free. It was a fantasy which sounded in every way like salvation ; yet he knew in his heart of hearts that that was precisely what it boiled down to at the end of the day.

_Fantasy_. He could wake up in a different kind of hell entirely, if that was how fate wanted to play.

Neither luck nor fate had ever been on Andrew's side in the past. He had not grown up drifting off to fairytales before sleep. Was not naive enough to think, even for a second, that anything would ever be as easy as a handful of pills or a bathtub filled with warm water.

Even when his reality had begun to warp, the word nightmare had never once crossed his mind. Nightmares were there to torment you in the dark, but no matter what horrors they held, they ended the moment you opened your eyes, didn't they ?

No, his life was just that. It was the same persistent monotone buzzing in his ears tirelessly like a broken record. Regardless of what he did, or didn't do, all he could feel in his waking hours was the same old nothing.

It was like being underwater, almost. He could see the shapes around him, could observe the ripples and the currents, but could never, ever, fully emerge from the depths.

He wondered, sometimes, just how many times a person could die without his heart stopping.

 

                                                                                                                                                 

* * *

 

" Two weeks, " Wymack had suggested. Andrew had stared back blankly without so much as a hint of a response.

Used to this reaction, or lack thereof by now, his manager had simply exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily.

" The costs will be covered, " he said plaintively.

" I think it would do you some good. You've been looking like shit lately. Don't even bother trying to deny it, for chrissake, Minyard. You need this. And think of the opportunities there. "

He'd been distinctly unimpressed.

" You want to send me to Antarctica. "

" Look at it this way- it's as good as a vacation. You'll get to have a change of scenery and spend some time in solitude- unless you want to bring someone along, that is. And, well, if you happen to get some inspiration for a new series while you're there, it wouldn't hurt, would it ? "

Andrew had considered those words silently. Finally, he'd conceded.

" E-mail me the flight details, then. "

With that, he'd walked out of David Wymack's office without a second glance back.

 

                                                                                                                                                

* * *

 

The second he set foot on the icy terrain, a small involuntary exhale left his lips.

It was endless. Everywhere he looked, there was only startlingly white landscape. Thick, abundant snow covered every inch of ground there was to tread on. Frozen lakes glinted like exotic jewels under sunlight which offered no real warmth. The emptiness surrounding him was astounding.

He'd gotten so used to city life, accustomed to the constant motion of streets bustling with people heading places at all hours, he felt as if he'd stumbled into some sort of still life painting by accident. He could be here for eternity, like an insect trapped in amber, untouched by time and civilization.

It was a strange, unsettling thought.

With a start, Andrew gripped the phone in his pocket. He wouldn't be getting any reception out here, but he'd be able to contact the outside world at the station they'd set up in advance. There would be supplies there, food and water, a heating system, laptop, electricity, and anything else he could possibly need. It was a sponsored work trip, after all, no matter how Wymack tried to sell it.

He began to head in the direction which his phone indicated was north. He'd have to walk for about ten minutes, supposedly, and then he'd get settled into his living quarters for the next two weeks. Andrew pulled up the collar of his coat, stopping only briefly to point his camera at a mountain peak in the distance.

He was here to document a mostly deserted and isolated continent. No more, no less. He was just telling someone else's story through his photography, that was all.

No harm in that. Those were the words Andrew repeated to himself in his head as he walked on.

 

                                                                                                                                           

* * *

 

It was nothing short of a surprise when he found _two_ identical stations next to each other after he'd been walking for nearly fifteen minutes without seeing a single other person in sight. His first instinct was to check his sleeves for the blades underneath, of course. Sirens had gone off in his mind the moment he spotted the stations, a low voice hissing _trap_ and _danger_ in his mind.

Wymack hadn't said anything about this. After a moment of hesitation, Andrew slipped out one of his knives and approached the structures. The door was unlocked, yielding to his experimental push easily. Inside, he could see the outline of some simple pieces of furniture, but no one else. The space was small and dimly lit.

Andrew gave everything a cursory once over before dropping his bags on the floor and stepping out once again. This time, he rapped sharply on the door next to his with much more caution. There was a vague answering sound coming from inside after a few seconds, and Andrew cursed Wymack silently in his mind.

The door swung halfway open. He froze instantly. Whatever he'd been expecting, he was wrong.

The stranger who stood there wore a wary expression practically mirroring his own, but that wasn't what surprised Andrew the most.

He was built like a slender athlete, with a slight but lean frame visible even through the heavy layers of clothes. A few inches taller than Andrew, perhaps, though not by much. He also had arctic blue eyes the color of a cold winter sky.

A discomfiting feeling was unfurling in his stomach, and Andrew cursed Wymack again. The stranger was regarding him with what looked like a mix of uncertainty and mild curiosity. He was decidedly attractive, Andrew could admit, but he disliked the sensation he got staring at him straight away.

" I'm Neil, " the man said hesitantly.

" Andrew. "

There was no reason to linger, he told himself. Once he'd gotten some answers, he could leave anytime.

Neil's eyes drifted to the DSLR hanging from Andrew's neck. " You're a photographer. " It was phrased as a statement, not a question. 

" And you're observant, " Andrew deadpanned.

" I'm a journalist, " Neil said after another beat. " I'm supposed to be writing about climate change. "

He said nothing to that, only lifting an eyebrow. Neil blinked. " Guess I'll see you around then ? I mean, it looks like we're the only people around here for miles anyway. "

" I don't like people much, " Andrew said casually. The corners of Neil's mouth twitched slightly, and he shot a wry look at Andrew.

" Noted. "

Andrew turned away without another word. He pretended to ignore the way his heart had been pounding throughout the entire exchange.


	2. Part ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to say this, but I know almost NOTHING about Antarctica ! Forgive me if there are any illogical or geographically incorrect descriptions, everything I wrote is based purely on my imagination. Enjoy !

**Part Two**

_" I never bled for a thousand lies,_

_Just to stem the flow._

_I never wept over a thousand lives,_

_Just to let this go. "_

 

 

For the first few days, they both kept to their respective stations and saw little of each other.

Andrew explored as much as he could, attempting to capture the landscape in the only way he understood. Photos, he'd discovered, usually spoke for themselves. It could be anything ranging from fleeting emotions to deep rooted nostalgia, and they would all translate onto film flawlessly given the right paraphernalia in capable hands.

A commom misconception among people, it seemed, was that as a form or art, photography was meant to represent beauty. The idea vexed Andrew more than he cared to admit.

Of course, there were the conventionally glossy shots of vibrant sunsets and tropical beaches which were always popular, but that was boring to him. One of the reasons why he'd been drawn to photography in the first place had been the sense of control it allowed him. During those ceaseless hours spent crouching in uncomfortable positions trying to capture a particular phenomenon, he found himself firmly behind the steering wheel of things for once, in a figurative sense.

With a camera in his hands, he could adjust the exposure and varying lenses and angles at any time to ensure the shot turned out just the way he wanted it to be. He could choose exactly what he wanted to trap within the frame. There was something close to pleasure, or satisfaction at the very least, he thought, upon seeing the images he had created come to life on film paper once developed.

He'd started out small, posting some of his work on a simple blog and a few other impersonal social media accounts before he was noticed. As it happened, David Wymack, editor in chief of _The Palmetto_ , had stumbled across his work and contacted him to offer a contract. He appreciated the frankness of Andrew's work, he'd said.

His style was unique- he never photographed people, and all of his work was in black and white. Through his contract with Wymack, he now had a double spread in every issue of his own, always featuring new themes and concepts he was working on. There weren't any words to go with the photographs, no captions whatsoever- something Andrew had insisted on in early negotiations.

It had seemed odd at the time, but Wymack had eventually caved, and the results over the years proved to be far more promising than anticipated. In fact, the response from both critics and subscribers were largely positive. They were intrigued. All of a sudden, Andrew Minyard, mysterious rising photographer from New York, was the center of many heated discussions and gossip amongst the public. Who was he ?

There was almost nothing to be found upon the internet. His past, family, relationship status, motivations, and such were all nondescript. There was much of his work steadily coming out, but no interviews or commentary from the photographer himself, ever.

He was simply maintaining a low profile, some said. Part of the publicity stunt. Others accused him of being arrogant and egotistical.

What was the significance of his use of black and white portrayal in every shot ? What was the reason why he refused to photograph people ?

The media could try and dig all they could, but would never succeed in getting anything beyond the barest facts about his background. Andrew had somehow risen to a small scale of fame in the profession.

Which was perhaps how he'd heard of _Neil._ He didn't know much, but had certainly been in the business long enough to have heard the name _Neil Josten_ by now, a sharp witted journalist writing for _The Edgar Allen_ , a rival magazine equally famous in New York.

He'd never bothered to read any of his articles, only heard rumors that Josten had signed with Tetsuji Moriyami, CEO of The Edgar Allen, at the mere age of nineteen. Spotted for his talent, Josten was a valuable asset to the Moriyama family's magazine, if the way sales had skyrocketed ever since his addition to the firm was anything to go by.

Andrew had heard plenty of rumors circulating Neil Josten, but meeting him in person on this trip to Antarctica was unexpected, and he still couldn't quite shake off the nagging feeling growing in the back of his mind ever since their initial encounter that day.

 

* * *

 

The second time they spoke, Andrew found Neil sitting by the edge of a precipice with a cigarette dangling from his fingers.

It was somewhere around nightfall, and Andrew hadn't gotten a chance to photograph the stars yet. He hesitated for a moment before approaching the other man who had his back to him.

His posture was relaxed, giving nothing away as Andrew crept closer. The snow muffled his footsteps, but Neil didn't start as Andrew gingerly lowered himself onto the ground about a foot away from him. He noticed the way Neil held the cigarette cupped between his palms as he blew the smoke out, almost as if he were _inhaling_ the smoke rather than taking a proper drag.

 _There was a story there,_ Andrew thought. And surprised himself yet again by feeling a flicker of interest.

After about half an hour, Neil was the first to break the silence. " You're Andrew Minyard, " he said. " The photographer from _PSU_. "

Andrew didn't bother sparing him so much as a sideways glance or a half hearted response. He simply raised his eyebrows and waited to see what would come out of Neil's mouth next.

" You weren't kidding about the anti people thing, huh, " he commented slowly, a hint of amusement coloring his voice.

Andrew shrugged. " Most people aren't interesting enough. Their problem, not mine. Besides, when are people anything but a disappointment? "

Neil tilted his head a little at that. " Do I make the cut, then ? "

" Not even close. "

" In that case... why _are_ you talking to me right now ? "

Andrew slid him an unimpressed look for that. " I wasn't the one who started this conversation. "

Neil held up his hands in mock surrender. " I can shut the fuck up anytime, you know. Just say the word. "

Now _that_ was interesting, wasn't it ? He took a lengthy drag from his own cigarette before speaking this time.

" Why, " he said tonelessly. " Waste a perfectly good cigarette ? "

Neil quirked his lips at that but didn't answer straight away. " It's personal, " he finally said.

It was beginning to grate on Andrew's nerves how much he actually wanted to keep talking with this mystery journalist.

" How about this, " he said after a few minutes had passed. " We'll play a game. I'll ask questions. You'll answer them honestly, and for every answer you give, I'll give one in return. Both of us can refuse to answer something so long as it's the truth. " He expected Neil to ask  _why,_ but instead the other man was silent for so long Andrew had given up expecting a response when he spoke again.

" That's fine. You can have the first turn. " Neil's voice was indecipherable.

Andrew pondered for a moment. " I'll settle for the question from earlier. "

Neil gave a barely audible sigh. " My mother, " he said. " The smell of smoke... reminds me of her. It's something of a weird habit of mine by now. "

Andrew _did_ glance at him this time. In the dark, his profile was lit up by the cherry glow of his cigarette in an annoyingly entrancing way. " I'll take my turn another time, " Neil said, after another pause.

_Oh._

They sat there in silence for the rest of the night, and Andrew thought about how odd it was that somehow, for the first time in a while, he wasn't bothered in the least by the indiscernible drop beneath him.


	3. Part iii.

**Part Three**

That night, Neil dreamed of Andrew.

They were standing in the middle of a canola field, of all places. The grass swayed drunkenly to the summer breeze, and there wasn't a single cloud in sight for miles. He turned to Andrew.

" You're in my dream, " he said. Andrew stared at him impassively. " Or maybe _you're_ in _my_ dream. " He felt the strange urge to laugh at that almost childish remark. He felt... oddly safe. It was a sensation he thought he'd long forgotten, if he was being honest with himself.

Here, he couldn't remember what he'd been so afraid of all those years. What had he been running from ? He felt giddily foolish. He could lay right down on the cracked earth and close his eyes. The comfortable heat of the afternoon only served as a lulling invitation. For some reason, Neil couldn't tear his eyes away from the sky.

It was _blue, blue, blue._

 _Like your eyes_ , Andrew stage-whispered in his ear, as if he could read his thoughts.

 _Like your father's eyes_ , his mother murmured. _His mother_.

With a cry, Neil jerked back reflexively. No, that couldn't be right. His mother wasn't supposed to be in this dream. He couldn't remember why, but he knew something was horribly off.

A sudden wave of viselike panic gripped him in place as the sky began to disintegrate. Dread crept up his spine and settled in his bones.

No, he thought desperately.

He would do anything to stop the scene unraveling in front of him. He could run. _He could stay_.

The grass was beginning to dissolve, too. He turned to Andrew. " Don't let me go, " he said.

Andrew glanced at the fragments of color rushing towards them like a tidal wave. " I'm always looking for you, " Neil gasped, as his feet began to crumble. When he looked up again, Andrew was holding out his hand. " That's funny, " he answered slowly. " I've been looking for you, too. "

Neil could no longer tell where the blue ended and where he began.

" _Yes_ , " Andrew said, uncharacteristic softness in his voice. " _Or no_ ? "

He opened his mouth, but the world faded away to oblivion before he had the chance to answer. 

 

* * *

 

Neil found himself giving away fractured pieces of his past day by day.

Andrew had become a solid presence in his life in Antarctica, the one splash of color in an otherwise seamless sea of white. They usually sat on the precipice and smoked together, or lay back and stared at the stars until sleep came in the form of heavy eyelids and muddled half-dreams.

Sometimes they talked until the crack of dawn when their voices were hoarse, and other times they didn't talk at all. It was always cold, but they passed a thermos of scalding coffee between them and draped electric blankets over their puffy down coats. They never touched each other, not even for warmth.

More than once Neil caught himself studying Andrew's chapped lips just a little longer than necessary.

During the day, Neil would spend hours hunched over the tiny desk in his station, either scribbling away feverishly on lined pages torn from a spiral notebook or clacking away furiously on his laptop.

Despite everything, he hadn't forgotten the reason he was there. Tetsuji expected daily updates without fail, and there were of course the unopened texts from Riko. _Don't think about it_ , his brain advised him. And so he didn't. For the first time in his life, Neil allowed himself to stop looking over his shoulders for once.

He was safe for the moment being, at least, an entire hemisphere away from his past and contract. The glaciers and mountains dusted with heavy sheens of silver frost felt like a fortress to him. On some days, he let himself imagine that he was nothing but a tourist on one of his exotic travels in this land of ice. An explorer, maybe, or mad scientist ? The fantasy changed from day to day. And he indulged himself for a few precious seconds, pretending as if he could exist outside the only world he'd known growing up on the run with his mother.

Neil had seen Andrew heading out of his own station at the crack of dawn with the DSLR dangling from his neck, and assumed he was off to do his job as well. He was never invited along on these trips, and yet he didn't offer, either.

There _was_ a part of him that was curious about seeing what Andrew was like in action, but he felt it was an unspoken rule between them that kept both from overstepping the other's boundaries and possibly doing something insane. Neil understood the need for rules better than most people.

So instead, when evenings came and Andrew joined him by what he'd come to think of as their spot, he was grateful. A voice in the back of mind whispered that it was _too easy_ , settling into this routine he'd paved for himself without resistance, and still he managed to ignore it most of the time.

Most of the time. His logical senses were screaming at him to snap out of this reverie while it still wasn't too late, but Neil sometimes wondered if it already was.

 

* * *

 

The night it happened, Riko called him twenty four times.

Neil had been finishing up the article he'd typed on aurora borealis during the day when his phone buzzed for the first time. As soon as he saw the caller ID flashing on his screen, every cell in his body had shouted at him to pack everything and leave. He could escape and immigrate to Australia, maybe.

Yet his traitorious, shaking hands had picked up after the twenty third missed call in succession. It didn't matter that Riko wasn't there in the station with him to hiss low threats in his ear or shove him onto the floor. All Neil could see as he picked up was the glint of a blade flashing in the dark and a grin which never failed to chill him with its promise of violence.

He sucked in a sharp breath-

" Nathaniel, my, my, my. " Riko's laughter echoed from the other end of the line.

Maybe if he could just stop breathing for long enough-

" Forgotten me so soon ? I'm disappointed. You've kept me waiting, and you know I hate waiting. I won't, not even for you. "

He hated the way his fists clenched automatically upon those words.

" You're awfully quiet today, hmm ? I wonder... what could have happened to our prodigy journalist ? "

" I'm listening, " he managed, through gritted teeth. " What do you want ? "

" I don't think that's the right answer, Nathaniel. Let's see, a certain reliable source tells me that you're sitting in front of your computer right now. There's a blue mug to your left, pens scattered to your right, and... what else ? A photographer next door ? "

It took all of his willpower not to hurl the phone at the walls immediately. What swept over him was a combination of white hot rage, suffocating desperation, and pure panic. In the end, the anger rose above everything else and settled into his veins like an intoxicant.

He was furious at himself for not realizing sooner what should he should have right from the day Tetsuji had called him into his office and announced this trip. It wasn't a break. It was a test, and Neil had failed miserably. Of course they had cameras installed in the place he slept and lived.

He was furious at Riko for everything he'd done to him since the day he'd walked into this nightmare of a contract he'd been forced to sign. He was furious at his mother for leaving him this mess to deal with.

" Don't ever say his name, you sick bastard, " he said tightly. Before he could hear what was sure to be said name coming from Riko, he hung up and turned his phone off.

For a moment, he was completely still. The anger pulsing through his body was still intact, but he wouldn't give Riko the satisfaction of seeing the reaction he so wanted. What Neil decided on was an early night. He'd go to bed and try to sleep his emotions off. After swallowing down a handful of white pills, he dropped onto the bed with a strange anxiety thrumming in the back of his mind and closed his eyes.


	4. Part iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, what happens in this chapter is not based on facts at all but my imagination ! Please do not take my words for medical knowledge in any real life situation. Implications of suicidal thoughts, nothing graphic at all.

**Part Four**

 

_He was sitting at the edge of a swimming pool._

_It was a warm night, and the moon hung full against a clear sky empty of stars. His feet swung idly in the murky shadows dancing over the surface of the pool. An inky mist was suspended overhead, with ribbons of oblivion snaking slowly toward him._

_He wasn't scared. In fact, he felt at peace with this strange world._

_When someone settled down next to him on the linoleum tiles, that felt right, too._

_" What are you doing ? " The stranger frowned at him._

_" What do you mean ? I'm right here, " Neil answered._

_Again, the stranger looked displeased. " That's not what I asked you. "_

_He hummed vaguely in response. For some reason, he couldn't quite connect his thoughts. " The stars, " he said abruptly. " I can't see them. "_

_The stranger was beginning to sound annoyed. " What does it matter ? "_

_It was Neil's turn to frown disapprovingly. " It matters, " he insisted. " How else will I find my way home ? "_

_He couldn't explain the feeling which came over him then. He had lost something, he was sure of it. And he didn't know why, but he was so terrifyingly sad. He turned to the stranger, who had fallen silent. " You, " he said. " You're not a stranger. "_

_The not-stranger stared at him. " Who else would I be ? "_

_Neil started to answer, but stopped when he saw the tears streaking down his companion's face. No, not tears. It was the same substance which was now curling up his legs, he thought. It dripped out of those cool gray eyes like blood, or tar._

_He watched in horror as it began trickling out of his nose as well, then his ears. The swimming pool was rising up to swallow them both. Darkness dripped out of his mouth as he tried to shout the name stuck in his throat._

_They reached out at the same time, and their fingers brushed as they sunk into the void together, and drowned._

 

* * *

 

He was sinking.

Cold seeped into his skin from every direction, and his vision was blurred. When he opened his mouth, ice cold seawater rushed past his lips and blocked his windpipe painfully. Somehow, Neil was drowning in the middle of the ocean. He couldn't remember getting in the water to begin with, which was odd.

The last thing he could recall was collapsing into bed and being so, so tired. As he flailed uselessly, trying to kick his way to the surface, he saw something bright orange land in the water near him. By stretching just a little, Neil managed to latch onto the tail end, and he felt an answering tug from above after a few seconds.

The journey to the top felt like an eternity. Every time his fingers nearly slipped, there was a slight jolt from overhead reminding him to tighten his grip. Agonizingly, he neared the surface, and eventually felt rather than saw a hand shoot out to grab him this time.

Nothing registered until he was flat on his back and staring into a pair of familiar eyes.

_Andrew_ , Neil thought fuzzily. His cheeks were flushed with the cold in a way he couldn't help noticing, but his lips were drained of blood and moving, forming words Neil couldn't hear.

The last concious thought which floated across his mind was the perplexing observation of how _angry_ Andrew looked.

It must have been a trick of the light, Neil decided. Because it didn't make sense at all.

 

* * *

 

Andrew didn't understand how he could feel both so unbearably hot and cold at the same time. Huddled in an oversized ski jacket by Neil's side, he glared down at the young man's sleeping face for the thousandth time that night.

Technically speaking, it was morning already. His phone read just a bit past four am. It had been one of the bad nights. He'd gone to bed early, feeling numb in an all too familiar way, only to toss and turn fruitlessly for at least an hour or so before managing to slip into a semi concious state.

One which ended as he jerked awake with screams reverberating through his skull. He'd pulled on boots and yet more layers over his sweater after deciding to step out for some air, done with sleep for the time being.

Andrew was quite used to this routine by now, but the instant he'd set foot outside and seen a motionless figure in the distance, he'd known instantly that something was colossally wrong. The sun had barely begun to rise, which meant most of the landscape was still invisible, but he thought the figure seemed familiar.

Who else was here apart from himself in this goddamn frozen hell ? He'd moved before he had time to react properly, and Neil's name slipped past his parched lips into the wind whipping all around. The idiot was standing on thin ice, he could tell as he drew closer.

They'd never ventured out this far in this direction during the day, and something unpleasant began to unfurl in Andrew's chest as he briefly thought about why Neil would possibly be out here in nothing but flimsy sweatpants and a hoodie.

" Get the fuck away from where you're standing and walk over to me. " He'd shouted, hating the way his voice cracked for a millisecond.

But Neil had simply continued to stand there like he was rooted to the spot, showing no indication whatsoever that he'd even heard Andrew. He didn't know where the anger came from, or how it had spread through his body so fast he was suddenly no longer cold at all despite the biting air.

That was when Neil had started talking- in a strange dreamlike voice. Words slurred and fuzzy, Andrew could barely understand what he was saying, but it was enough. He was moving towards the other man in a second, cursing loudly and trying to be nimble on his feet, well aware of what lay underneath the ice. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but Neil turned to look at him as he came close.

Those cold blue eyes were utterly empty in a way which stopped Andrew in his tracks. It was almost as if he was staring right through Andrew, unseeing as a blind person might be. Then he'd slowly, _slowly_ reached out his hand, and that was when the ice had cracked.

Afterwards, wrapped up in blankets by the heater in his station, with Neil by his feet, Andrew found himself unable to stop replaying the scene in his head. He had no idea how he'd managed to strip off all his sweaters, swearing as he fumbled to tie the sleeves together to form a makeshift rope to throw in the water and haul Neil up.

All he'd known in that moment was the unshakable knowledge that he couldn't let this man die in front of him. Andrew knew himself well enough to have an inkling of why, and it wasn't out of the kindness of his heart or anything remotely of the sort. He shuddered at the nagging implications behind this particular thought, determined not to open that can of worms right then.

Ever, if he could help it. He had a feeling things were going to get increasingly complicated once someone woke up.

At the moment, Neil was pale yet no longer alarmingly so, some of the color having returned to his cheeks once Andrew had stripped him of the soaked clothes clinging to him like a second skin and gotten him into an excessive cocoon of dry wooly garments. He checked the man's temperature every fifteen minutes or so, keeping a firm eye on any drastic changes in his body heat.

It was rising slowly, which was good, because Andrew knew about the possibility of hypothermia. Annoyingly, it was Aaron who crossed his mind for a split second then, an unbidden memory of his brother bent over stacks of pre med textbooks during countless nights at their dormitory.

He couldn't help thinking that if it were Aaron here instead of him, perhaps he would have handled this better. Neil wasn't out of danger yet, he reminded himself.

He had done everything he knew to do, but wasn't delusional enough to fool himself into believing for a second that his remedy would appropriately substitute professional medical attention. Andrew knew he should contact Wymack, make an international call and arrange for someone to be sent, but for some incomprehensible reason couldn't bring himself to hit call even as he stared at his screen. Finally, after a few more minutes of internal debate, he decided that if Neil didn't regain conciousness in another twenty minutes, he'd make the call.


	5. Part v.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I've finished for now ! The epilogue will be up either later today or sometime this week, don't hate me too much after you finish this chapter. Yes, you'll get what you've all been waiting for. And some angst you didn't ask for along the way, but all's well that ends well, right ? Shoutout to anyone who finds the line I shamelessly stole from Killing Eve !

**Part Five**

He was aching all over. Ever since he could recall, Neil had known and understood pain, but this was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

The agony ecompassed him from head to toe, plaguing every single nerve and fiber in his body. It felt like having someone tear his organs out one by one, he thought. He was decomposing. Unraveling atom by atom until the world was one runaway less than it had been. He wondered if this was what dying felt like. Wondered what would happen to Alex, Stefan, Chris, and all the others once he was gone. Did they simply cease to exist ? Or had they already been buried long ago over the years ?

He could no longer tell what was real and what was fiction.

All he knew was that his life had been lie after lie after lie and he was drowning under the weight of all the untruths in a sea of hopelessness.

He couldn't remember a single thing about himself worth preserving.

 

* * *

 

Someone was calling his name. With a gasp, Neil shot bolt upright before he could question this decision as a wave of vertigo swept over him.

" For God's sake, " Andrew muttered. " Lie the fuck back down before you give yourself a concussion or something, would you. " He was scowling darkly at Neil.

" What- "

" I said lie down, idiot. " The dangerous glint in the other man's eyes then told Neil it was indeed in his best interest to do so. Wincing as he re settled himself on the pillow, Neil realized for the first time that he wasn't in his own clothes. He was wearing an oversized maroon sweater and soft gray sweatpants, it seemed. _Andrew's_ , his brain supplied helpfully after another beat.

Which meant-

" Your knives are on the bedside table."

Neil narrowed his eyes as he eyed the small metal countertop to his left and unthinkingly grabbed the familiar handles. It wasn't that he thought he'd have to use them against Andrew anymore, really, and he doubted they'd do much good if it came down to a fight right then anyways, but the fact that he felt minusculely better with his weapons of choice secured, and the fact that Andrew somehow knew this- stirred up a strange feeling in his chest.

" Thank you. " The words felt inadequate for what he really wanted to say, and tasted cheap, but Neil flushed and said it anyways.

Because he was. Grateful to the man sitting cross legged on the floor a few feet away watching him warily. In more ways than one, too, though he wasn't completely certain he had all the reasons figured out yet.

" For what ? "

 _Of course he wasn't going to let him off that easily, because this was Andrew,_ Neil thought, with something shockingly akin to amusement. Before he could launch into an internal debate over the state of his sanity at the moment, Andrew interrupted again.

" Were you trying to kill yourself ? " The blunt words instantly chased away any trace of humor left.

Neil could feel himself stiffen as he remembered distorted flashes of what had occurred just hours ago, and he braced himself before opening his mouth this time.

" No. " He knew Andrew deserved the truth, deserved an explanation of sorts, but waited for him to ask anyways. Perhaps this was the conversation he'd been dreading from the moment he opened his door for the first time, he thought. Neil understood that something between them was about to change.

There was no reason for him to stay once he handed Andrew the last pieces of the puzzle which made up Neil Josten. He couldn't. He'd made a promise to himself long before he met Andrew, and it wasn't his to break anymore.

He would not let anyone else bleed for him. Blood, like secrets, he'd learned, could keep something alive while contained, but would kill just as easily once spilled.

He took a deep breath. " Give me two days, " he said. " Tomorrow night, come somewhere with me. There's something I want to show you ; ask me again then. I promise to answer honestly. " Andrew stared at him for so long he wasn't sure if the other man was planning on acknowledging the proposal at all.

" Two days, " he repeated flatly. " And you're staying here. Don't even _think_ about going to get your computer or writing. "

When Neil started to smile a little, Andrew threw another blanket down on the bed, unceremoniously muffling his face and effectively cutting off his objections.

 

* * *

 

 " Bring your camera, " Neil reminded the other man.

In answer, Andrew raised the DSLR and spun around on his heels to point the lens briefly at Neil before clicking the shutter once. Raising a half hearted middle finger in lieu of an actual comeback, Neil sighed and waved for him to hurry. They were both appropriately bundled in their down coats, scarves, gloves, and thick soled boots for the occasion.

" If this is your brilliant plan to drag me out to the middle of nowhere so you can dispose of the body easier, I must say, I'm rather disappointed, " Andrew commented as they began trudging through the snow.

Neil rolled his eyes. " I'd just push you over the precipice if I wanted to murder you, " he said dismissively.

" Like you have the strength. "

" I could always stab you in your sleep instead. "

Andrew smiled viciously. " And I could do the same to you. Did you know that blood bounces on ice ? "

" You have a disturbing mind, " Neil smirked. " Yes, " Andrew agreed. " Guess it takes one to know one. "

" Psychopathic tendencies, " Neil countered. 

" Oh, but you should _never_ tell a psychopath that they're a psychopath, Neil, it upsets them. Has no one ever taught you ? "

Neil shook his head, turning his face slightly away so Andrew couldn't see the twitch of his lips despite everything.

 

* * *

 

It was the most beautiful sky he had ever seen. The shimmering swirls of green and blue and violet light bled together vibrantly against the pitch black canvas offered, with such a vibrancy it filled up a void in Neil he hadn't even known existed.

Of course he'd seen pictures, read descriptions about this natural phenomenon, but seeing it with his own eyes for the very first time, he felt certain he'd never experienced this much beauty all at once in his life. He remembered writing that article on aurora borealis and how it was formed just days earlier.

Now, standing under the light of a billion stars, those same clinical words sounded fake and entirely impossible to comprehend. Because how could anyone, Neil thought, do this sight justice with nothing but stumbling words and metaphors ?

Beside him, Andrew was still. He stood there unmoving and unblinking, staring hard into the sky with an expression which could have easily passed for indifference had Neil not known him better. Unwilling to disrupt Andrew's moment, he waited and steadied his breathing until he felt his companion's gaze shift onto himself.

Turning around, Neil was prepared to delve into his explanation, but all the words he'd planned died in his throat instantly. Andrew was so much closer than he remembered him being just a second ago, only inches away and focused on his face with such an intensity it knocked Neil's breath away.

He couldn't exist, Neil thought dizzily. The light softened his features into something almost ethereal, not entirely human and achingly, unbearably beautiful. Half of his face was shadowed, the other side illumined in starlight.

Neil was suddenly overcome with the sensation of free falling, a feeling he knew well enough by now. Only this time, he could already begin to see the bottom of the ravine waiting for him.

He closed his eyes as Andrew leaned in and whispered a question quietly enough for just him to hear. There had only ever been one answer he wanted to give when it came to the person standing before him, and he allowed the word to seep into the night at last.

Neil saw all the stars explode at once when Andrew kissed him.

 

* * *

 

" Why, " he asked. " Do you photograph everything in black and white ? "

They were flat on their backs, a blanket spread beneath them. Andrew lifted an eyebrow. " I didn't know you read _The PSU._ "

" I don't, " he admitted. " But come on, I've heard the rumors, at least. "

" And I might have googled some of your work. "

Andrew snorted. " It's going to cost you, you know. Don't think I've forgotten you still owe me an answer from the other day. "

Neil inhaled deeply. " My father, " he began. " Was indebted to the Moriyamas. Long story short ? He sold me to their family business when I was seven. My mother tried to... take me and run. We were going to the UK, she said. Almost made it, too. " He was glad Andrew couldn't see his expression then.

A familiar terror was rising in the pit of his stomach, and already he could feel his breathing quicken uncomfortably. He must have paused too long, because before he could start hunching over and gasping for air like he usually did, Andrew was gripping his hand and the shock of warm human contact somehow managed to ground him instead of sending him into a downward spiral of panic.

Uncertainly, Neil laced his fingers through Andrew's. When he got an answering squeeze, he relaxed a little and managed to find his voice again.

" I killed my mother. "

 _The stench of gasoline, police sirens in the distance, flames rearing up against the sky-_ " She made me do it on the beach. My father's men had caught up to us, and she was bleeding internally. Shoved a lighter into my hand and forced me out of the car while she doused the seats in gasoline. She wouldn't die by their hands, she said, or by her own. The whole thing lit up in a matter of seconds. "

_He stood by and watched as his mother burned. Nathaniel didn't know if she'd loved him, or he her, but he knew without a doubt that there was no one in the world left who would shed a tear for his pain anymore. He was alone, he was going to run, and he was never going to look back._

" Your scars, " Andrew said. " Did your father give them to you ? And where is he now ? "

There was no mistaking the dangerous lilt underlying his question.

Neil remembered that Andrew must have seen him naked when he'd changed him into his own clothes days ago. So he'd seen, then. The mess of various faded and raised lines decorating his back, hips, and thighs like constellations of secret Braille messages.

" He's dead. Died in prison a few years back, actually. "

" And yes... but not all. "

" Your mother ? "

" Some of them. When I wasn't fast enough, or quiet enough, or smart enough. "

The words hung in the air between them for a moment.

" So now you're stuck with Riko and Tetsuji Moriyama. "

Neil smiled humorlessly. " Yes ; my contract with them isn't up for another year. "

What he didn't say was, _it'll never be over for me, not really._ _So you should probably run now. Leave while you still can, because everyone I care about ends up getting hurt sooner or later._

" And the other night ? "

Neil blinked. " I sleepwalk sometimes, " he admitted. " I dream constantly, it happens occasionally. Hasn't in a long time, though. "

" You sleepwalk. " Andrew sounded incredulous. " And you didn't think this might be a problem in the middle of nowhere ? "

He considered. " Not really, no. "

" Have I told you, " Andrew muttered. " How much I hate you ? "

For some inexplicable reason, Neil smiled. " I thought we agreed not to lie. "

He received a punch in the arm, but it didn't slip past his notice that Andrew didn't either let go of his hand or correct him.

Neil felt a sharp pang in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way, if ever. Like he could belong somewhere. Even as his back ached from lying stiffly on the ice, he was content to stay there forever. It was dangerous, he knew.

 _Want_ wasn't a luxury runaways like Neil could afford. And Andrew certainly didn't deserve to be dragged headfirst into something completely out of his control.

Just like that, the spell was broken. He knew what he had to do even as it crushed something fragile in his chest.

" I've got a flight tomorrow, " he told Andrew softly.

" You're going back to New York. "

" Yes, " Neil agreed, feeling his stomach drop at the transparently forced flatness in Andrew's voice.

" You can't go back to the Moriyamas. Not after everything they've done to you, " Andrew said dully.

Neil swallowed painfully. " I told you, we have a con- "

" That's bullshit, Josten, and you know it. Tell me this isn't some stupid martyr act of yours to protect me. "

" I know you're more than capable of protecting yourself, that's not the issue. I just... can't. "

Andrew turned around to face him, lips curled. " You just _can't_. So you're still going to go running back like a coward to the people who hurt you when I'm offering you a way out. You're not as good a liar as you think, you know. "

It stung more than it should have, but Neil knew there was no one to blame but himself.

He wanted to remind Andrew that he wasn't invincible. That he shouldn't have to be used to carrying the weight of the sky on his own shoulders. He wanted so much to shout, _Don't let me go_. _Don't let me wake up this time._

" Thank you, " he said instead.

Andrew closed his eyes. " So go. " This time, there was no inflection whatsoever to his voice.

Neil pretended that it didn't feel like the world was being ripped apart a little further as he walked away and truly felt the cold for the first time that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, a quick google search informed me that aurora borealis is in fact called aurora australis in the Antarctic Circle, sorry about that !


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE !! You thought I was going to abandon this, didn't you :))  
> It's been a week but hopefully the content will make up for the long wait, I'm still in denial that this happened at all.  
> Without further ado, enjoy !

**Epilogue - _two months later_**

 

 " Andrew, _oh my god._ "

He gave a long suffering sigh at the sight of his cousin making his way through the crowd towards him, visibly beaming and towing a rather bemused looking Eric behind him.

Andrew leaned against the refreshments table and took another sip of his Scotch.

It might have been a little early into the night to be on his second glass, but, well. The gala hadn't been his idea.

" What do you mean, no ? " Wymack had demanded. " There's going to be hundreds, probably thousands of people. It's _the Met_ , for God's sake. Just let me handle the press and you'll be fine. The media is going to have a damn field day with this. The exposure will be great for your career. "

" This is my concerned face, " Andrew had informed his manager sullenly.

Wymack had slapped his forehead loudly, muttering something which sounded suspiciously like _above my pay grade, I keep telling you,_ under his breath. In the end, it'd been six bottles of Johnny Walker that sealed the deal. Andrew had walked out of Wymack's office feeling vaguely satisfied and mostly confident it had been worth the sacrifice on his part. He was definitely having second thoughts at the moment.

" I'm so proud of you, " Nicky was saying, waving his champagne flute around dramatically for emphasis as he spoke. " I mean, look at you, all grown up ! Having your very own personal gala at one of the most iconic cultural landmarks in the world ? All these people, they're here to see your photograhy ! I'm so glad I'm related to you, Andrew, I really am- "

For the most part, he let Nicky babble on because at least it meant he wouldn't be bothered by anyone else for the time being and he trusted his cousin just slightly more than the majority of the people in the room.

" I texted Aaron, " Nicky said, and Andrew snapped back to the present.

" You did what. "

Eric must have noticed the flat look in Andrew's eyes, because he gave his husband the slightest nudge. Nicky laughed nervously. " Uh, you do know that _The Times_ posted an article about this, right ? He would have heard from the other Foxes anyways and- "

The Foxes. After graduation, the only ones he'd bothered to keep in touch with were Renee and Nicky. He answered their texts and calls every once in a while when he was bored enough, but that was his limit. There'd been the occasional call from Kevin in the beginning, usually one sided conversations in which he tirelessly tried to talk Andrew into joining a pro team, but even that had died down eventually once it became clear he was completely wasting his breath.

As for Aaron, as far as Andrew was concerned, they might as well be virtual strangers. Their deal had ended after graduation, and his twin hadn't been able to get away from Andrew fast enough. Last he'd heard, Aaron was married and living happily in LA.

" Andrew, " Nicky said, sounding worried. " Are you listening to me ? Look, I'm sorry if it really bothers you that much, okay ? I just wanted as many people to be here to support you as possible today, I thought you guys might have worked your issues out a little over the years ? And he said he'd try to make it, I know he wants to see you. " Nicky was biting his lip, looking slightly panicked and a little teary.

" Fine, whatever. Just give me some space. " It came out slightly harsher than he'd intended, but Andrew couldn't quite bring himself to care at that moment. He drained his glass and purposefully chose to ignore the look Erik sent him.

Unfortunately, just seconds after Nicky and Erik had left, Allison Reynolds approached and Andrew found himself once again in unwelcome company.

" You could contain your excitement at seeing an old teammate, Minyard, " Allison said loudly, heels clacking as she strode purposefully towards him. Several people nearby turned to look on with interest as she stopped a few feet away from Andrew.

" So you do have some survival instincts, " he said in answer, looking pointedly at the generous space between them.

Allison rolled her eyes. " Renee was right, you really haven't changed a bit. She's parking the car, by the way. Just stopping by to let you know and congratulate you, I suppose. "

He shrugged. " Alright. Thank you. "

" You're _oh so welcome_. " Allison said, shaking her head as she apparently spotted someone she knew in the crowd and began making her way over, leaving Andrew alone with his drink once more.

Looking around, he still couldn't entirely believe all the people at the gala were here to see his photography. The series titled _Drown_ had been a huge success. He'd gained almost a million followers on social media overnight, tickets had sold out within two days, and Wymack had been getting endless calls day after day from potential buyers offering outrageous prices for various pieces in the new collection.

Among them, one particular photo stood out as Andrew had known it would right from the start. There was talk about nominations and even a National Geographic interview, which meant long conversations with important people in business suits Andrew didn't care much for. He was trying not to think about the acclaimed photograph in question when Renee Walker finally showed up.

" Andrew ! " She was smiling, holding out a bag in one hand and a shrimp cocktail accepted from a passing waiter in the other.

He took the bag with raised eyebrows. " Renee. "

" Books, " she explained. " We just got back from London yesterday, and I picked out a couple I thought you'd like at one of the bookstores we visited. "

" Thank you, " he said. " Hmm, Reynolds in a bookstore ? Somehow I can't picture that. "

Renee laughed. " We both enjoyed it very much, " she assured him. " It was lovely, we did so much shopping at Covent Garden. "

He hummed noncommittally to show he was listening, setting down his empty glass on the table so he could shift the bag a little.

" Today's about you, though, " Renee reminded him. " Thank you for inviting me. I'm looking forward to taking a close look at everything in person later. "

Andrew accepted that with a nod. " I'm not giving you a tour. "

She smiled. " I'd better go find Allison, then. We'll stay in touch, let me know when you'll be free next week if I don't see you again before we go. "

Andrew tilted his head in agreement, briefly returning a light embrace from Renee as she turned to go. With a sigh, he straightened up to head in the direction he'd been avoiding all night so far.

 

* * *

 

 

 To say the room was crowded would be an understatement.

The piece titled _Pipe Dream_ took up almost a fourth of the wall, it had been enlarged and framed in a honey colored mahogany frame. At first glance, the photograph was a breathtaking collision of low saturated colors. If you stood closer, however, you'd notice a silhouette of someone standing on the horizon where the star streaked sky met the earth.

Already there was no shortage of fan theories and public speculations on just _who_ the person was, why the picture was taken in color instead of trademark black and white, and the significance behind every little detail.

" I don't think it matters who the person actually is, " A woman was saying to her husband. " Clearly, the silhouette is meant to represent a part of the photographer himself. His insecurities, perhaps, or his past. By showing ths picture in color, he's saying he's come to terms with that part of himself on some level. This is the beginning of a new era for his work. "

Andrew stared ahead through the crowd, keeping his head low as not to be noticed by anyone and wondering why he'd walked into this room in the first place.

" Impressive. " Someone said, directly behind him.

It couldn't be him.

Yet when Andrew turned around, Neil Josten had the nerve to stand there and smile.

He was wearing a dark gray tuxedo, looking in every way like he'd just stepped out of a cologne ad, except for the fact that his hair was obviously tousled. As if he'd run his hands repeatedly through it, perhaps. Andrew wanted to stab someone. Preferably Neil.

" You look ridiculous, " he said.

Neil glanced down at his suit. " Oh, yeah, " he said almost ruefully. " I was going to wear something more casual, but my friend Jean wouldn't let me leave like that. " He looked vaguely apologetic. " I've never gotten a suit before, " he admitted. " Is the fit not right ? I mean, I really don't have the slightest clue about these things. "

" If you value your life at all, get out of here before you say anything else that makes me want to kill you. "

Neil sighed. " I'm sorry, " he said quietly. " For leaving things like that between us. I wanted to be here today so I could tell you in person. "

Andrew stared at him silently. " There's no _us_ , " he informed Neil flatly. " You don't owe me anything, and I sure as shit don't owe you anything either. So you can go home now, Josten. "

Neil hesitated. " I've left _The Edgar Allen_ , " he said. " It's not official yet, but the news will probably be out sometime in the next few days. "

_It changes nothing,_ Andrew reminded himself, when his heart stupidly stumbled. He'd be a fool to think even for a split second that whatever feelings he'd hallucinated in Antarctica would lead anywhere. Neil Josten was nothing but a mirage in a boundless desert Andrew had been stuck in for far too long.

" I'm leaving, " he said. " Do whatever the fuck you want. "

Neil frowned, seemingly unaffected in the slightest by the daggers Andrew was trying to convey through his glares. " Isn't this your exhibition, though ? And it's only just started ? Everyone's here to see you. "

" They're here to see my photography. Besides, what gave you the impression that I actually care ? "

Unsurprisingly, Neil managed to keep pace with him as they shouldered their way through the crowd. He turned around to better hear the other man's reply, but instead caught sight of the way Neil flinched as someone brushed his arm as they passed. It was fleeting, but Andrew knew what he'd seen.

The rage which flared in his chest was uncannily reminiscent of the night he'd found Neil on the ice over two months ago. He wanted to send his fists flying through something, and pull the utterly clueless moron behind him out of everyone else's reach. He also wanted to punch himself for feeling this way in the first place.

" Going somewhere ? "

Andrew stopped just short of slamming into Aaron Minyard. Next to him, he could practically feel the confusion radiating off Neil as he looked between the two of them.

His night had just gotten so much better.

" Move, " he told Aaron, as flatly as possible. " I'm not in the mood for this right now. "

Irritation flashed across the features mirroring his own for a split second.

" Who's this ? " Aaron eyed Neil suspiciously.

" No one, " Andrew informed him, just as Neil opened his mouth.

He really had to get out of there before he stabbed someone.

 

* * *

 

 

 Neil fiddled with his napkin.

They were seated at a booth in a diner, where Andrew had ordered chocolate chip waffles and Neil black coffee. He watched, aghast, as Andrew drizzled his pancakes in what looked to be an excessive amount of honey.

" Got a problem ? "

Neil kept his eyes leveled on Andrew as he took a sip of the scalding coffee.

" No, just questions. "

For a few minutes, they sat in silence while the noise of their surroundings washed over the two.

" I never answered you, " Andrew said finally. " When you asked me about my photography. "

Neil inclined his head, not wanting to interrupt.

" You told me about your mother, " he said blandly. " So here's your answer. "

" According to my therapist, Bee, I am clinically depressed. Photography, for me, started out as part of my therapy. I capture things the way I see them. No editing, nothing at all. It grounds me, in a sense, because it helps me tell the difference between _real_ and _not real_ when I'm on medication. "

" People like color. They ask why I don't display my work in colors. I haven't seen saturation in anything for years. "

Neil swallowed. The words were not what he'd expected, and something resonated painfully in his heart at the rawness of Andrew's answer.

" _Pipe Dream_ ? " He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

Andrew stared at him. " Your level of idiocy never ceases to amaze me, Josten. "

The implications hit Neil like a train slamming into him at full speed.

" You're saying _I'm_ the pipe dream. "

" I'm saying I hate you. "

Neil dared to lift the corners of his mouth ; he was certain this was only one of many conversations to follow, not all of them lighthearted by any means, but he was fine with that.

Absurdly, he thought he understood exactly what Andrew had meant. Not many people would notice unless they looked closely, but Neil knew that the silhouette in _Pipe Dream_ was in motion. He was moving, but was he running away or towards something ?

_Something or someone._

Neil was nostalgic for places which didn't exist and colors he'd never lived. Sitting across from Andrew in the diner, he could remember the exact way he'd felt lying under the stars every night in Antarctica. It wasn't the stars or the Southern lights, he realized.

Andrew somehow made a loud diner in New York feel like an awe inspiring natural phenomenon, and he knew then that it was something he never wanted to let go of.

Neil took a deep breath. " It feels like that for me, too, " he told Andrew, as evenly as he could manage. If he hadn't known better, Neil would have said that Andrew's gaze softened almost imperceptibly for a split second.

" Yes, " the blonde said slowly. " Or no ? "

" Yes. "

Andrew speared the last piece of his waffle and pointed it at Neil. " You just agreed to pick up the check. "

Neil couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through his chest at the half smile which graced Andrew's lips. He would order as many waffles as necessary time after time just for that rare smile alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just take a moment to celebrate the fact that I actually finished this labor of love ? I know, 10k isn't really anything to brag about, but completing my first multi chapter fic is honestly such a huge milestone for me... I can't thank everyone who's taken the time to read and support this fic enough ! You guys know the drill, leave me a comment if you liked this, I love you all so much <3

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the lovely Nora.


End file.
